Just Desserts

Find your darkest delights and wildest imaginings here. AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothirielswan

[ghurab-alzilal]

*During a sibling spree *

Damian: Well, I'm going with her.

Jason: You leave me for a demon witch in a tight leotard.

Damian: Yes.

Jason: Hmph! Men, they're all the same.

[lothirielswandc]

“In the microwave’s defense, it still lived many happy years after that incident.”

— Beast Boy, after microwaving the Olive Garden “not microwaveable” breadstick bag and discovering new colors on the spectrum.

[lothirielswandc]

Damian Wayne: Let me help you with holding Trigon

Raven: Absolutely not. It’s not like this gem is the One Ring

Damian Wayne: It literally is. Now hand it over, Mr. Frodo.

[lothirielswandc]

Read the full story on AO3 here!

Tires squealed across the pavement. A flash of black and white hurtled towards them.

Harley’s already-pale complexion became ghostly. She bit her lip. “Fuck.”

Raven looked between her and the black and white-checkered limo. On each square, an old-fashioned outline of a jester in a clown suit smiled with eerie eyes and too-wide mouths. 

It screeched to a stop a few yards away.

“Dammit.” Gordon muttered curses under his breath. GCPD officers swarmed around them, some taking positions in front of them, others hiding behind the cars, pistols aimed at the newcomers.

A clown in a formal suit-and-tie emerged from the driver’s seat. They sauntered toward the middle section, and pried open the door. 

“We have to get out of here. Now. Take Robin.” Harley gave Damian another shove towards the inside of the police car. “Raven, come on.” 

Raven watched, frozen. Thoughts scattered in her mind as two long legs appeared beneath the car door. Green socks stretched out beneath violet pants. 

“Raven.” Harley pulled on her arm.

Raven had never met the Joker. Damian and Constantine had excessively forbidden it during her Gotham visits. As an empath, nothing could be more dangerous than being in a room with a mentally, emotionally, unstable murderer. Now, that fear no longer existed.

Except for the whole not-having-powers part. 

A slender figure stood, casting a too-large smirk at the weapons pointed at his face. Emerald eyes caught hers. 

He wasn't there during the Flashpoint. An epiphany struck her hard. Who was the first person Batman killed when Darkseid took control over him? Who would’ve been the biggest threat, the true monster among monsters? 

Raven took a step forward.

Joker’s grin grew wider, stretching to his ears.

Raven walked across the blocked-off street. Cops murmured behind her. Adrenaline thrummed beneath her skin, just as it had with Bane. 

A pair of footsteps ran to her side.

“Are you nuts?” Harley hissed in her ear. “Get in the car. Now .” 

Raven didn't look away. “But he wasn't there during…he could help —”

“Raven, I was his psychologist. For years. Look at what he did to me. Do you think the Joker is capable of helping anybody?” Harley’s nails pierced Raven’s skin, biting into her arm. 

“Trigon’s little bird!” Joker clapped his hands together. “Good to finally see you in person. I can't believe it's taken this long for us to finally meet.”

“Take a good look!” Harley scoffed. “ ‘Cuz this is it, asshat!”

Joker ignored her with a brief frown. His smile always returned. “Your daddy told me you’d stop by…eventually.” 

Raven’s jaw clenched. She tried to not let surprise seep onto her face. She tried to remain smooth, even as her fingers continued to shake at her sides. 

Raven turned to Harley. Her voice was more calm than she expected, “Harley, please take Robin home. I’ll see you at the GCPD station.”

Harley gawked at her. Raven took advantage of her surprise, shrugging out of Harley’s grip. She took brisk steps towards the Joker.

Joker held out a gloved hand to Raven. She regarded it, but didn't dare reach out to touch him. His jade brow rose.

“So stiff. Why don't you join me for a night on the town? Robins can be so dull — they’re really party killers .” Joker held her gaze, laughter dancing in his eyes, as his words cut deep. 

Jason, I’m sorry. Harley, I’m sorry. Damian, I’m sorry. Dick, I’m so, so — 

Raven’s fists were numb. Regret already pooled in her stomach. But she had no choice. If she was powerless — permanently, or for too long — their plans against Darkseid would fail. They needed an alternative. 

“You know of the Flashpoint,” said Raven.

Joker bowed his head, curls alive and writhing along his scalp. “It’s a vivid thing, Batsy killing you. It’s my favorite nightmare. Always wake up laughing…”

“You can stop him,” said Raven. She added, “Darkseid, I mean.”

Joker gestured at the limo. “I can be persuaded.” 

Raven looked between Joker and the car door. Darkness awaited her inside. She was vaguely away of Harley still standing a few feet away. The cops eyes’ punctured her back like icicles, transfixed.

Raven lifted her chin. “Let’s talk business.” 

Joker turned away from her. He seized the driver, waiting still and patient beside the car. Gloved hands curled around the clown’s neck, and removed the tie. 

Joker strode toward Raven, black tie in hand. Without warning, he strapped the thin fabric over Raven’s eyes, wrapping it tight behind her skull. 

Harley and Jim Gordon’s shouts of protests filled the street. Raven was pulled forward, stumbling into darkness. 

The limo door slammed shut.

Read the full story on AO3 here!

[lothirielswandc]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

— G O T H A M —

Please don't be dead. Raven’s nails etched crescent moons into the Batmobile’s dashboard. Please don't be dead. Please.

The engine revved as Harley pressed down on the gas, speeding through an intersection. Only one car horn blared, quickly fading. Night traffic in Gotham was particularly scarce.

“We’ll get him back. Everything will be fine. I think.” Harley gnawed on her bottom lip, gloved fingers tightening on the wheel.

Raven tucked her knees to her chest. Her legs wouldn't stop shaking. White strands of hair trickled down her shoulders, bright against her black see-through tights and jean shorts.

Life without Raven’s powers had been amazing, unlike Clark’s. The little tight ball of tension, ever present in her chest during social interactions, had faded to a shadow. People weren't nearly as irksome. Raven could smile, or raise her voice, or kick a rock — and nothing would happen. It was exhilarating, the feeling of being fully human.

And now her miracle was a curse.

“You look constipated,” said Harley.

Raven glared at her.

“I mean, you look like you’re going to explode,” said Harley. “Take deep breaths. Breathe. Sitting like that prevents yourself from getting as much air.”

Raven ignored her. It was futile to ignore her body’s instinct to curl around itself. It was easier to endure the pain. “How close are we?”

“Three more blocks.” Harley’s eyes always had a dim, ghost-like pallor to them. They scanned the street signs. “Two…one…here.”

The Batmobile screeched to a stop. The inside throttled around them, lurching them against the seatbelts. Raven’s elbow slammed into the door. An uncomfortable flash of searing heat crawled across her skin.

Raven ignored the pain as she threw the door open. Her boots slapped the puddle-splattered cobblestone as she broke out into a run.

They were in one of the older, Victorian districts of Gotham. Dead leaves skittered across a small, hidden square. A cracked fountain was at the center. Angel statues, stained with graffiti, watched her with soulless eyes as she passed.

Raven didn't know where she was going. The violet neon sign for a hair salon — the only sign of life — was an educated guess.

Harley caught up with her, red and black pom-poms dancing atop her converse as she sped forward. Even the metal bat clutched in her fist didn't slow her down.

They stopped at the entrance. Raven flexed her fingers, leaning towards the door, but Harley’s bat blocked her.

The ex-clown peered into the darkened windows. “It’s been awhile since Professor Pyg terrorized the populace. I don't have a clue what to expect.”

“Let’s go.”

Harley’s bat didn't move. She glanced at Raven, ghostly eyes unblinking. “Hold up. Let’s go over the ground rules first: you’re not a Supe right now. You’re a civilian. There’s a huge difference, even if Pyg doesn't have powers.”

“ Harley.” Raven gritted her teeth as the seconds trickled by. Damian was close. What condition would he be in when she found him…?

“I’m not a civilian. I know how to fight,” said Raaven. “Damian’s family members express themselves with their fists. I’ll be fine.”

“But you haven't been mastering your emotions like you did with your powers. It’s hard to think straight and be rational…I know you hate that Raven, but you have to be on guard,” said Harley.

Raven nodded. She stared forward.

Harley lowered her bat. “Let me go first. Fists or not, I’m the big guns right now.”

Harley stepped in front of Raven. She pointed her bat at the door as she clasped the doorknob and squeezed.

The door creaked open without a fight, inviting them into the shadows.

Blood pulsed in Raven’s ears as they entered. Her eyes studied the empty barber chairs. Their reflections shot worried glances at them from the dusty mirrors. For the first time, Raven missed her powers. Her ability to sense the life forms around her, to feel what they felt — a sure way of sensing a hidden presence.

Harley continued to stalk forward bat first. Her fingers flexed at the base.

“It looks empty,” Raven whispered.

“ Shh !” Harley’s pigtails bounced as she turned and scowled at her.

Raven pressed her lips together. Harley prowled to a door at the end, marked for employees only. The darkness thickened around them as they moved deeper in. Raven’s mortal eyes strained to catch movement.

Harley threw the door open. The facade ended. A metal stairway descended before them. Fluorescent lights flickered.

Harley and Raven exchanged a look. The gymnast’s lips barely moved. “Assume they know we’re here. I don't know what kind of security this place has. No cameras in the front. If they have motion sensors, they’re hidden well. This has trap written all over it.”

As they descended the steps, faint music crescendoed, rising up to meet them. Opera music. Hairs rose along Raven’s arms as a male soprano sang in Italian. She wrapped her arms around herself, holding Damian’s hoodie closer, inhaling the scent of pine.

“Why are all of us Gotham villains so fucking dramatic? It’s like we’re walking thespians,” Harley rolled her eyes.

Raven’s ears started to ring, tuning out the music. Her hands shook. She had felt less fear facing near-infinitely powerful beings than what lay ahead.

Are we enough? Are we too late?

They turned a corner. A dome-like room stretched out along the end, but there was a wall of glass that stood between them. Like those hospital rooms where doctors performed operations on the other side.

A shadow glided across the glass.

Harley pressed up against the wall. Raven mirrored her, her heart wild and sporadic compared to the hard stillness at her back.

They crept forward, opera music growing louder.

The shadow on the other side of the glass became more distinct as they inched forward. It had wrinkled ears with sharp points. A lab coat with dark stains covered bulking shoulders.

Raven’s stomach convulsed as she studied the face. He wore a pig’s mask — no, a pig’s face: pink flesh, stout nose and all. I should’ve seen that coming. But it’s still gross. And ruins Charlotte’s Web for me.

Professor Pyg waved a meat cleaver in his hand like a conductor before an orchestra. He hovered over an operation table, peering at the naked, unmoving form before him.

Raven’s mouth fell open. Damian.

Raven rushed forward. He was there. His limbs were limp at his sides, strapped to the table. His beautiful bronze skin was bleached white beneath the fluorescents.

“Hold it!”

Harley wrapped her arms around Raven from behind. Completely forgetting she was her ally, Raven elbowed her in the gut as she broke free.

“STOP!”

Professor Pyg paused. The cleaver was inches away from Damian’s bare chest.

Raven slammed into the glassy wall between her and the nightmare at play. She searched for a door handle, following the curved wall. Harley was muttering curses behind her.

Raven stumbled into the metal panels of the door. More pain, white-hot needles assaulting her skin from the impact.

They nearly fell through the entrance as they entered the room. Harley’s bat was aimed at Pyg.

“Hand Robin and his incredibly endowed package over, and no one gets smothered in honey barbecue and slapped on a grill for Labor Day!” Harley peeked around Pyg at the operation table, her wide eyes focused between Damian’s legs.

“Harley, stop staring!” Raven hissed.

“What? Oh, yeah! Good for you, sweetie!” Harley yelped as Pyg threw a cleaver at her face.

Raven and Harley scattered. Raven ducked down, bolting for Damian. The door groaned open wider behind them.

“Finish them, my failures!” Pyg cried, drawing another cleaver from the depths of his lab coat.

Bodies stumbled forward in patient dressing gowns. They were unrecognizable beneath layers of thick, white gauze.

“What kind of unlicensed, plastic surgery office are you running down here —? Think you can take a crack at my knees?” Harley flipped back to the door, launching herself at the bodies.

Two escaped Harley’s lunge. They staggered towards Raven.

Raven pulled her arm back and let her fist fly forward (a Batfamily favorite). Her punch landed square in their bandaged face. But there was no scream. No muffled grunt of pain.

Do they feel anything — ? Physically, emotionally…? Raven raised her fists again, suddenly relieved not to have powers. Her eyes prickled as they lumbered toward her without the slightest human hesitation.

Arms wrapped around her. Raven kicked the one before her in the groin, and threw her head back into the other. The room blurred for a minute.

Raven shook herself free. The room teetered as she backed away, watching their swirling shapes. There was a dull ache in the back of her head.

Pyg’s victims paddled forward, puppet-like punching bags made of flesh.

Raven stumbled into a sharp metal surface. The operation table. Her fingers clasped the hard, icy edge as she spared a glance at Damian’s face.

Up close, Raven didn't see any new cuts. What few scars Damian had, she knew by heart: a stab wound from Slade, a long line down his torso from Ra’s, no doubt one too many scratch marks on his back from too-heated nights together.

Damian’s eyes were closed. Raven leaned over him. Her fingers caressed his cheek. Slivers of white strands slipped down to mix with his black locks.

“Damian…?” her voice cracked.

His eyelids fluttered.

A glint of metal flashed across the room.

Raven ducked as the air whistled by. The cleaver stung her cheek.

She planted herself at the end of the table, guarding Damian’s head. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, riddled with goosebumps.

Professor Pyg leered over the opposite side, brandishing another cleaver.

“Where the hell does he keep those things — ACK!” Harley was buried beneath a pile of mummified victims.

“You mustn’t take him from me! He is the closest I’ve ever come to perfection —! All he needs are a few…modifications.” Pyg’s eyes trickled down Damian’s bare body.

Raven’s grip on Damian tightened. Even without demonic urges to own and dominate everything, Damian was hers. Her vision blurred red.

“Although,” Pyg’s voice turned from full of inhuman greed to conversational, gesturing at her with the cleaver, “You have incredibly flawless bone structure. That face, those eyes…! I would be a fool to let such an opportunity go!”

Damian’s foot slammed into Pyg’s chest. A sickening crunch filled the room. Pyg screeched as he stumbled backwards.

[multiverseworm]

No because, I can totally picture Damian getting unsolicited advice from each of the batkids when they hear he’s going on a date. All of them having a completely different idea of what that entails😭

Steph: Remember to always offer your hoodie, even if she’s taller than you. We girls like that.

Damian: we’re in the middle of June, Brown. In what world do you think is appropriate to bring a piece of clothing designed for cold weather when it’s 90° degrees outside?

…

Duke: Everyone loves a good joke, it’s a good way to break the ice as well.

Damian: Thank you, Thomas. That also works as a great way to defeat Mr. Freeze if he ever decides to escape Arkham.

…

Cass: *explaining in full detail how to look for signs that his date is not interested anymore through body language*

Damian: *taking extensive notes about it*

…

Tim: Don’t forget to find out everything about her and her background.

Damian: *visibly offended* Who do you think I am, Drake? An Amateur? I obviously already did that. Full report is in the batcomputer files.

…

Babs: Just don’t do anything Dick tells you.

Damian: …

…

Dick: Did Babs actually say that? Whatever, just remember to be polite, make her laugh, pay for the meal and walk her home.

*makes a pause*

Dick: Bruce already gave you “the talk”, right? If not, this is about to get veeery awkward…

Damian: *mutters curses in Arabic*

…

Damian: Todd, do you have a minute? I need your assistance in getting intel for a mission.

Jason: Does this mission involve the date everyone else has been so eagerly talking about? *smirks devilish*

Damian: …

Jason: …

Damian: You read Austen, you have the greatest intel of them all to fill me in on this assignment.

Jason: Sit down and listen close, little spawn. Here’s what you’re gonna do if you want that girl to have the best date she’s ever gonna get.

[reverseoforah]

[lothirielswandc]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Raven watched as the rain trailed its diamond-studded fingertips down the window. The splatter of sky tears could be heard from the counter.

There are always tears in Gotham.

“Need an escort home, love?” The sharp stench of liquor filled the air as he spoke.

Raven glanced back at Constantine. He owned the bookstore. He was a lackadaisical drunk, but drunk all the same. Raven was the only employee who stood him for so long.

“It’s only a few blocks. I’ll be fine. Besides, who would be there to escort you home?” Raven said. It was hardly her first closing shift at the bookstore. They had become a favorite of hers. They certainly had their perks.

Constantine shrugged. “Fair enough. Should’ve sent you home with Ivy, I could’ve closed myself.”

Ivy ran the small cafe in the corner of the book store. Walks home with Ivy were entertaining. They would trade stories on her crazy girlfriend and Raven’s even crazier roommate (some of those exchanges were fit to be podcast material).

But Raven knew Constantine was incapable of closing by himself without making a puddle of drool on the floor.

Above the shop door, a small dreamcatcher with chimes twinkled a greeting to the final customer.

Raven resisted a smirk. Her reason for liking her late shifts just walked in.

Constantine rolled his eyes. “Take care of it, won't you?”

He staggered upstairs to his flat above.

Raven peeked around the bookshelves, eager to see the last person she spoke to every night. In any other shop in Gotham, late customers would be wearisome. The threat level was a lot lower at a bookstore.

Raven’s eyes glided to the stack of novels that needed to be restocked. She snatched a few and waded through the bookshelves.

One by one, she returned the books to their homes. Raven strained to listen for the footsteps of the other person in the store. Yet she couldn't hear a thing.

Raven glanced over at the cash register, a habit of every shopkeeper in Gotham. No one stood there waiting, either.

She wedged two books apart to return a third. Gorgeous emerald eyes caught hers from the other side.

“Hi,” she said. She scolded her heart for the way it pounded.

“Good evening,” The baritone was velvet. Any words spoken in that voice would make lullabies pale in comparison.

“What are you on the hunt for this time?” She tucked a hair behind her ear.

The emerald pools vanished. Raven blinked. He moved fast. She leaned up on her tiptoes, peeking through the books to the other side —

“Maybe it’s you,” Damian’s breath tickled the back of her neck.

Raven spun. His collarbone was at her eye level. He must’ve been leaning down before. It was hard to tell when he wore all black, but not a single drop of rain had made it onto his clothes.

“Do you have any Dickens?” said Damian.

Raven was glad when Damian spoke: it gave her a minute to find her voice. She swallowed and willed her words not to wobble this time. “We do. It's over here.”

When Raven walked, Damian followed, a silent shadow at her heels.

“What did you think of Oscar Wilde?” Raven asked, recalling the last book Damian was in for.

“Very Shakespearian. I didn’t expect that.” Damian admitted. “Nor the philosophic rants.”

“It has beautiful descriptions — I thought you’d like his poetic flare, with Frost being a favorite of yours.”

“It had a nice rhythm.”

They stopped at the row of Dickens. Rows of hardcover spines with golden trims lined the shelves.

“Here’s what we have,” Raven said. “If there’s something you’re looking for that’s not here, I could order it for you.”

“Thank you, but that won't be necessary.” Damian reached over to pluck one of the novels from the shelf. He paused in doing so, arm lingering in the air.

Raven caught the flare of his nostrils. It wasn't the first time she’d noticed.

Did I make him mad…? Do I stink? Or is it something else?

“Are your allergies acting up?” she asked.

“What?” The blank look on his face was an obvious no.

She looked away. “Nevermind.”

“Do you have any collections of Frost?”

“Yes — this way.” Raven wandered through the labyrinth of shelves. Her dazzling regular trailed behind her, his footsteps soundless.

“I’ve shown you where Frost’s works are before, haven't I?” Raven wondered aloud.

Damian visited so frequently, it was hard to believe he didn't know the location of one of his favorites.

“You have,” said Damian.

Raven glanced back at him. Damian’s eyes remained latched on her. She resisted the urge to shy away from his intensity.

“You’ve forgotten? There’s a lot of books here,” said Raven.

“No.” Damian looked at the floor. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I like talking to you.”

Raven’s face burned. The compliment sent butterflies afloat in her stomach — but seeing a serious, incredibly tall (and gorgeously handsome) man stammer at the floor while doing it…

I have a weird type: gorgeous, well read, and socially awkward.

Raven stared forward. “I like talking to you, too.”

Raven spared a glance at Damian, and found him doing the same thing. They quickly looked away.

They had walked right past the poems section. Raven mumbled an apology as she backtracked and gestured toward the shelves. “Can I help you pick one out?”

Damian bent down, lithe and lean as shadow. He crouched before the lower shelves. “Are you familiar with Frost scholars?”

“Not really. I won’t be much help picking out the author’s notes. The only scholars I know are from gothic literature,” Raven crouched down beside him.

Damian’s long, slender fingers trailed across the spines. A vein traveled down to his wrist. His skin glistened bronze beneath the warm glow of the hanging lamps.

Stop admiring his hands…that’s another weird fetish. Finding people’s hands attractive. What is wrong with me? I’m becoming a living Tumblr post.

“What’s your favorite poem of Frost’s?” said Damian.

“Fire and Ice is a classic,” said Raven. “You?”

“Ever heard of Acquainted with the Night?”

“No. Sounds cool.”

Damian plucked one of the books from the shelves and studied the table of contents. He nodded at something on the page and closed it.

“I’ll take this one.”

“Great. I can check you out over here…”

Damian shot up, seeming to move more with the grace of a jaguar than a simple human. Raven was still teetering above the carpet, calves burning, when he offered her a hand. The vein on the top of his hand pulsed when his hand gripped hers, pulling her up.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Damian followed Raven to the counter. He slid two books across the dark wood.

“We don't get a lot of visitors at this hour,” Raven mused absentmindedly as she searched for barcodes. “Just you.”

“I was…in the area.” Damian hesitated, more words lingering on his tongue. But he didn't continue.

Raven slid the books across the counter. She had wrapped each of them in a plastic bag to keep them safe from the rain’s onslaught. “Thank you.”

Raven’s lips tingled as her time with Damian approached its end, and a sudden urge to ask him out took over her. Would he like attending one of Etrigan’s poetry readings together? Would he say yes —?

“Let me know how they are,” said Raven. “Um…would you like to —?”

Damian took a broad step back from the counter. His nostrils were flaring. “Please excuse me.”

“Okay…?”

Damian slipped out of the store soundlessly, except for the dreamcatcher’s chimes whispering goodbye. Raven frowned. A different kind of heat burned her face than before.

I wonder what that means, when his nose flares like that. Maybe I really do smell — Constantine reeks, it could’ve rubbed off on me.

Or…maybe I annoyed him.

Raven sighed, scanning the empty bookstore. What a weirdo.

~*~

Closing went quick. Constantine had stumbled down the stairs again, asking to escort Raven home, but she politely refused (Constantine was an annoying drunk — last time he wouldn't stop calling her ‘Zatanna’).

Raven’s umbrella flapped open on the doorstep. The rain had gotten worse; it pounded against the umbrella, making it cave in against her head. Droplets spat at the back of her calves.

Raven clutched her pepper spray in a vice grip as she started walking home.

Her eyes scanned the street as she walked. It was a tactic anyone with common sense — especially Gotham residents — learned quick.

Nothing stirred beneath the rain’s onslaught. That was good. Uneventful was safest at night.

Raven passed an empty alley. She glanced in, checking for any lurking shadows or signs of life. Nothing. Her gaze returned to the slick, drenched street.

Something tickled her wrist.

The wet brick of the alleyway hit Raven’s back. Hard.

The umbrella flew from her grip. Rain drenched her face. Raven blinked through the icy torrent, trying to focus on the tall, dark shadow before her.

Damian?

[darthvashtique93]

A Cosmos In The Sand

The End

 Two weeks after the battle, Raven and the remaining Azarathians returned to their land, escorted by the Themyscirans.

         Raven’s heart rent at what she saw.  The land seemed lifeless; the entire area smelled of death.  Raven frowned at the grayness before her.  It brought tears to her eyes.  Azarath was once vibrant and full of life, but now it lay barren as a wasteland.  “Azarathians have a deep connection to their land.  When its inhabitants are well, the land prospers.”  Raven looked up at Queen Hippolyta who was speaking.  “The land just `needs a little life breathed into it,” Queen Hippolyta smiled at Raven.  Raven stared at her hands.  Could it work?  Only one way to find out.  Summoning her powers, Raven placed her hands on the ground and released everything within her.  Closing her eyes in concentration, she allowed her powers to flow through her into Azarath.  The sounds of gasps caught her attention.  She slowly opened her eyes and gasped.  Green shoots poked their heads through the ground.  The lakes were now filled, and Raven could sense the waterfalls in the distance flowing with life.  It was a long way from perfect, hardly resembling its former glory.  Despite the destroyed buildings, it was a start.

         “Now what?” Raven turned Queen Hippolyta.  “There’s only 20 of us left.”

         "The war has caused many others to be misplaced; they could use a new home," the queen answered.

         “Still, there’s so much work to be done,” Raven frowned, feeling hopeless.

         “Raven,” Queen Hippolyta placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.  “You will not be alone.  We will help you rebuild.”

         “What about Themyscira?”

         “Diana can handle things while I’m away.  We will stay and rebuild no matter how long it takes.”

         That was a year ago.  Now, at 22, Raven had become the ruler of New Azarath.  People from all walks of life populated the new region.  The women once held hostage by Slaede made up her counsel, so she wasn’t ruling alone.  Raven had also taken on the responsibility of raising two sets of twins whose mothers had been murdered by Slaede.  They lived with her in a recently constructed temple, on a hill.  At the bottom of the hill, there was a huge memorial with the names of all the Azarathians whose lives were lost.  It was a huge project, but one of the Azarathian woman had the power to see the history behind any object she touched.  Raven spent many hours staring at the names, tracing her mother’s and Azar’s name with her fingers.

         Raven sighed, backing away from the shiny, pearl memorial with her mother’s name and began the long trek to her temple/house. She had changed.   Her first night in New Azarath, Raven had chopped off her hair.  It had since grown.  She thought about cutting it again, but the length reminded her of her mother, so she left it alone.  Her hair was no longer decorated with heavy, gaudy jewelry.  Gone was the skimpy attire Slaede used to parade her in, showing her off.  Now, she wore white and beige, lightweight tunics with a slit going up to her thigh, sometimes accompanied with a himation.  Raven no longer wore ornate jewelry, and she no longer outlined her eyes in kohl and painted her lips red.  She looked like a simple Azarathian female, almost blending in with Azarath.  However, people recognized her wherever she went.  There weren’t too many Azarathians with violet eyes.  Thankfully, people didn’t bother her.   They simply acknowledged her existence. 

Raven became the sought-after figure for the children who were once held hostage, and their mothers often had to shoo them away.  Raven had also taken Maya and Xenevra under her wings and was instructing them magic herself.  

         “Your Majesty!  Your Majesty!”  Raven looked up to see a messenger galloping on a horse towards her with Aelfred in tow.

         “You can call me Raven,” Raven said for the thousandth time.

         “Riders on the horizon,” he gasped.

         “What!” Raven’s eyes widened in horror.  Raven quickly mounted Aelfred and followed the messenger to the entrance of the city where a crowd had gathered.  They were pointing at what looked like an approaching army.  Raven could feel the fear and tension in the air.

         “Raven!” someone called her name.  She turned to see Maya, followed by Xenevra, running to her.  “What’s going on?” Maya asked with fear in her eyes.

         “I don’t know,” Raven said, “but I’m going to find out.”

         Finding a quiet place away from the crowd, Raven sat on the ground and looked up at the two girls who had followed her.  “Protect my body,” she said.  The girls nodded.  Raven closed her eyes and began a spell she had just learned a month ago.  She felt her soul gently slip from her body.  Once it had completely disconnected, Raven willed it towards the incoming army.  Her soul flew at a speed Raven couldn’t fathom.  Within seconds, her soul had reached the army.  Relief flooded her as she recognized the lead rider.  She called her soul back and exclaimed breathlessly, “It’s Damyan!”  She looked up at Maya and Xenevra with new life in her eyes.  The two girls relaxed.  “We need to let everyone know we are about to have guests!” Raven said, jumping to her feet.  They had a feast to prepare.

         Raven stood at the city’s entrance as Damyan approached.  It had taken about 8 hours, and the sun was beginning its descent, but he was finally here.  The Azarathians had prepared food and lodging.  Raven used magic to rapidly grow crops so the many horses would have hay.  (She never liked using her magic to interrupt nature, but this was a special occasion.)

         Her heart raced in her chest as Damyan dismounted.  Damyan marched up to her with a stern look on his face and a twinkle in his eye.  He stopped a foot away from her.  “Damyan,” Raven said his name as she stared up at him.  His lip twitched, and the next thing she knew, he was pulling her into a deep, heated kiss.  Raven grasped at his cape and armor as Damyan opened his mouth wider, inviting Raven in – an invitation she immediately accepted.  His gloved hands traced the curves of her body, and Raven moaned into his mouth.  It took a moment before Raven remembered they were not alone.  She quickly broke the kiss.  Breathlessly, she looked up at Damyan who was smirking down at her.  "If I had known I would be greeted like that, I would have gotten here sooner," he beamed.  Raven blushed before welcoming the men and leading them into the city.

         The night was festive.  Raven watched sat by Damyan, watching as the children danced around a blazing fire while music played.  She was mindlessly humming to the music when Damyan leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Can we go somewhere…quiet?”

         Raven nodded with a blush.  “Yeah, come with me.”

         They walked a while before Raven led him to a familiar pasture - a pasture familiar to her.  Damyan looked around at the bright, red flowers.  “What are these?” he asked.

         “Fire cosmos flowers,” Raven answered, bending down to caress one of the petals, “they can survive in the harshest environment with little to no water.” 

         “Just like you,” Damyan gently removed a strand of hair from her face.

         “What do you mean?” Raven asked.

         “You were trapped in a harsh environment, yet, you survived.”

         “Right,” Raven scoffed, “I hurt a lot of innocent people to ensure my survival, though.”

         “You didn’t hurt anyone, Raven,” Damyan said.  “You were being held prisoner by a tyrant king.  You may have interpreted your visions, but he and the soldiers who followed him were the ones who did the slaughtering.  Not you.  Now, I’ve done terrible things under the guise of peace,” Damyan admitted.  “That’s where I’ve been this entire time – trying to right my wrongs.”

         “We were at war,” Raven said, placing a hand on his cheek.  “You were at war.”

         “It still doesn’t erase the guilt.”  The two stared at each other in silence.

         “So,” Raven eventually spoke, “have you spoken to Jhon?”

         “Rode through the city a couple of days ago.  He is loving his role as prince of New Polis,” Damyan answered referring to the city that was once Slaede’s capital.  “Things have calmed down immensely.  We, my men and I, have been wandering for a long time – fixing wrongs…but…I didn’t come here to rehash the past,” he gazed at her.  “I’m here to talk about the future, our future.”

         “Our future?” Raven questioned.

         “I want to stay here with you, if you’ll have me,” Damyan spoke honestly.

         “But…you and your clan, you’re nomads.”

         “We used to be, but…Azarath is thriving right now.  What happens when another tyrant rises up and decides Azarath needs razing again.”

         “I know,” Raven frowned, “I constantly worry; but what can I do?”

         “Allow me and my men to be your protection.”

         “Protection?  Is that why you came, to be Azarath’s…protection?”

         “No,” Damyan answered, “I came to marry you.”

         “Wait?” Raven paused.  “You want to marry me?”

         “I’ve thought about it.  You love New Azarath, you’re dedicated to her citizens.  I could never pull you away from here.  Simultaneously, I want to be with you.”

         “Damyan,” Raven breathed as he cupped her face in his hands, “the women, my counsel, they’re weary of new men.  If I have armed strangers walking the streets – “

         “They’ll camp outside of the city.  Miles and miles away if need be.”

         “Damyan…”

         “If I must abdicate, I will.  I…I just want to be with you.  This year without you has been torturous.  I can’t…I can’t go another year without you,” he breathed.  “I can’t,” he said, bringing her into a heated kiss.  Damyan really hoped he communicated everything he was feeling through the kiss.  Raven responded in kind.  “I keep remembering how carefree you looked the night before I left,” he said between kisses.  “I never got to know that woman,” he kissed her again, “but I would really like to know her, if you’ll have me.”

         “Yes,” Raven pulled herself closer to him, “yes.  You don’t have to abdicate anything.  New Azarath really could use the protection.  Okay?”

         “Okay,” Damyan smiled.

         “I love you,” Raven said.  “I need you to know that.”

         “I love you, too,” Damyan admitted.

         “Please don’t leave me again,” Raven begged.

         “I won’t,” Damyan said before taking her lower lip into his mouth.  “I’ll never leave you again.”  Raven moaned into Damyan’s mouth as he slowly lowered them to the ground.  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she lost herself in the feel of him.  Relaxing as Damyan linked their fingers before bringing their joined hands above her head.

         “Thank you for rescuing me,” Raven breathed.

         “You rescued me first,” Damyan replied before kissing his way down her body.  Raven hummed in agreement as she felt Damyan’s hand’s on her skin.  This was the start to a beautiful life = a life she intended to lead to the fullest.

[lothirielswandc]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: DCU, DCU (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Raven/Damian Wayne, Raven & Damian Wayne Characters: Raven (Teen Titans), Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, John Constantine, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Wayne Manor, DamiRae - Freeform, Summer Vibes, What Happens When Alfred's Sleeping Series: Part 1 of THE FAMILY JEWELS (Collection of Damirae One-shots/AU's) Summary:

“I didn't consider…” Damian paused. His fingers tightened on the black denim, frozen in place. “I don’t want to share this with anyone else.”

Raven smiled. She reached out towards the taller shadow and cupped his face with her hand. Damian’s skin was blazing warm.

“There’s no one here,” said Raven. “Just us.”

  Rope? Check. Motion detection trackers? Check. Margarita Mix? Check.

It's a Damirae date night to remember.

[lothirielswandc]

Shh…….im researching…..

[andthendk]

here's a lil scribble I did with Raven (personally I think #3 fits her aesthetic😍) ⭐️ part 49292 of me refusing to shove her into one "goth" category 😤

[sweetybaty]

Barbie and ken meme idk <333

[reverseoforah]

🎃

[reverseoforah]

[inverted-typo]

“I heard a rumor saying a witch cast a mysterious spell on the assassin sent to hunt her in an attempt to save her own life.”

“Do you believe those rumors to be true?”

“Those spreading such rumors weren’t there when I fell in love with you.”

It’s 2:30 in the morning and I can’t cohesively explain or expand on the idea that Damian accidentally fell in love with his target without knowing she was his target. Literally been sitting here for 30+ minutes trying figure out how to make that concept interesting but you win some you lose some I guess 😂

Straight up colored this whole thing then said nah nvm lineart only

[lothirielswandc]

Jason Todd: What do they do in their free time?

Tim Drake: You really want to think about that?

Dick Grayson: Something dark and spooky.

Jason Todd: Wax play with candles to summon some shit.

Dick Grayson: Harry Potter cosplay!

Jason Todd: In the bedroom, maybe.

Dick Grayson: Maybe they go to the zoo? Damian likes animals.

Jason Todd: Yeah, Raven probably visits often to see him in his habitat.

Tim Drake: …

*Raven and Damian in the other room*

*Great British Baking Show plays*

Rachel Roth: I hope they keep Saku on. Her pastry looks so cool!

Damian Wayne: It’s settled. I’m making that for us.

Rachel Roth: You’ll make a great househusband, Demon Boy.

[lothirielswandc]

Clark Kent, outside the window: ….

Harley Quinn: You okay, Soup?

Clark Kent: Thank you for asking, Harley. I’m okay, just disappointed that Bruce did not invite me

Bruce Wayne: You want to be in this room?

Clark Kent: It feels nice to be included!

Selina Kyle: Here, we’ll swap. Hold Bruce’s hand, no one will tell the difference.